


Nightly visits

by extraterrestrialsandwich



Category: South Park
Genre: Angst, Closeted Trans Character, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, Or Is It?, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Leopold "Butters" Stotch, Unrequited Love, it doesn't end in fluff that's where the angst comes in hdkfh, just some headcanons i have for marjorine and kenny really, mtf butters, or at least it's fluffy by my standards, rated g but there's some swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:40:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28741905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extraterrestrialsandwich/pseuds/extraterrestrialsandwich
Summary: He’d softly knock on the glass, and Marjorine, sometimes sleeping, sometimes already dressed up, would soon appear in the window frame. She'd flash a smile that despite the veil of night seemed to shine brighter than any she showed during the day, and open the window for Kenny to crawl into her warm bedroom.
Relationships: Kenny McCormick/Leopold "Butters" Stotch, Marjorine/Kenny McCormick
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	Nightly visits

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE thanks to my wonderful friend Maria for betaing this for me and helping me improve it by a lot since I'm new to writing!! <3 couldn't have done this without you! this is a short one shot that's basically some of my headcanons smushed together. their age is ambiguous but they're somewhere in high school.

Kenny grinned from ear to ear as he watched Marjorine twirl around, hands coming together softly to clap and cheer for her without waking the rest of the house up. It was late, a little too late for Marjorine’s taste she’d told him once, in a hushed conversation during lunch break they’d spent in the school parking lot, but it’s the only time Kenny can sneak into her room without her parents noticing. He asked her then if maybe they should stop. Kenny can go days without a lick of sleep, but Marjorine was a different story.

_“Of course not!”_ she’d said then, incredulously. _“I wouldn’t give up your nightly visits for the world.”_ He didn’t have the guts to tell her he felt the same.

Not every day, but every few days, Kenny would climb up the gangly tree next to the Stotch’s house, not too long after his shift at the service shop was over. As quietly as possible, he’d hop onto the living room roof and make his way over to Marjorine’s window on the second floor, thankful for his years as a masked vigilante preparing him for silently creeping through the shadows unnoticed. He’d softly knock on the glass, and Marjorine, sometimes sleeping, sometimes already dressed up, would soon appear in the window frame. She'd flash a smile that despite the veil of night seemed to shine brighter than any she showed during the day, and open the window for Kenny to crawl into her warm bedroom.

They always kept the lights off. Both to hide from the prying eyes of the streets of South Park, and to hide the fact that she was still awake from her parents. And, possibly, to mitigate the damage if one of said parents were to open the door to see what was going on. He’d often sit in the frame of the window, not quite letting himself in completely and disturbing the peace of the room. It was innocuous, as far as rooms went, not too different from the orderly air of Kyle’s bedroom, but a far cry from the mess that was Stan’s. It was neat, but had a sense of peace that teenage bedrooms rarely had. His certainly didn’t.

Today Marjorine was already donning a dress and wig, with the makeup sprawled over her desk, waiting to be put on. She liked it when he put it on for her, cause she was still unsure and clumsy when putting it on herself. Kenny argued once that she wouldn’t get better unless she practiced, and his shoddy work probably wasn’t a better alternative, but all she’d have to do was flash a sheepish smile his way and he was already done for, grabbing the small palette and motioning for her to sit down on the bed. He did the same thing now, the exchange wordless, practiced.

They’d bought the makeup together, when the gang was in Denver one day and they’d broken off from the group. She didn’t know what to buy, and was too scared to go up to the register herself. Kenny had happily guided her through the process.

Kenny wasn’t a makeup connoisseur, but he’d picked up a thing or two from his sister. He liked hanging out with her, hearing her talk about her friends, school, books she’d read in the library when she avoided being in their house. He made an effort to take an interest in his sister’s hobbies, and she’d tell him all about what she’d learned about makeup from her friends and from youtube videos they’d watched together during sleepovers. Sometimes Kenny and her would do each other’s makeup, testing out extravagant looks with the few products they found in their mother’s closet, old and clumpy but still usable as long as you weren’t too picky about the end result. And sometimes, when excited about his visits to Marjorine, he’d use his barely functioning phone to watch makeup tutorials on youtube during breaks in the shop.

He’d helped Marjorine pick out some eyeshadows, two lipsticks, a lipgloss and a mascara in Denver, and together they pooled some money to pay for it. At first, she vehemently refused.

_“Are you kidding me?”_ she’d said, giving him a timid, pointed look. _“There’s no way I’m letting you spend money on me when I know how much you struggle financially!”_

He’d shrugged. _“Call it an early birthday gift, then. Or late, from all the birthdays I haven’t given you anything.”_ A dazzling smile usually gave him one back, and that time was no different. _“Besides, your dad’ll ask you where all your allowance went this month if you spend too much, right?”_ Even after all these years, she still couldn’t stomach lying to her parents. She’d conceded, and he’d waltzed right up to the register with their haul while she went to wait outside. With a wink after being asked if it was for his girlfriend, he left the store, prize in hand.

They hadn’t come across many other opportunities like that. Mainly because their finances were stretched thin as it was, with Marjorine’s measly allowance and Kenny’s job only barely paying for feeding his sister and him, but also because Marjorine refused to buy anything in South Park and they rarely found themselves able to make the trip outside.

He’d sat down on the edge of Marjorine’s neatly made bed, the makeup in hand, inwardly wincing as his muddied jeans met with the pristine sheets. Marjorine plopped down next to him not a moment later, closing her eyes with a small, content smile on her face, leaning in to let Kenny work. As he started using the brush to dust her eyelids with crimson (they hadn’t bought any makeup brushes, but paintbrushes worked just as good, right?) he had to fight to keep concentration on the task at hand, eyes sliding down to look at her lips intermittently and quickly flitting back up again.

They were so close, he could feel her breathing on him. He thought this might be the best, and the worst, part of his visits. When she sat so close, he could feel the heat of her body like a gravitational pull, her smell permeating his nose until he felt dizzy with nervous and giddy energy. It was a cleaner and calmer smell than his own, he knew. The odor of cigarette smoke, dirt and mold from his house would probably linger in his clothes long after he’d moved out, and coupled with the grease from the service shop it didn’t make for a pleasant experience. But Marjorine had never seemed to mind, leaning in close to let him gently coat her eyelashes in mascara, or to whisper in his ear during class, or when sitting next to him in Kyle’s living room to play video games. Never once had she wrinkled her nose or taken a step back like some people do.

With the mascara done, Marjorine blinked up at him with big, blue eyes. They were always breathtaking, but in the dark of her bedroom, a streetlight outside reflecting in her blown out pupils, the darkened lashes framing the eyes like an art piece, they made his throat dry up with their intensity. They were too intense, too focused on him, radiating a trust he wasn’t sure he deserved. He swallowed thickly, dragging his eyes away and busying himself with the lipgloss. He was spelling out his own undoing every time he chose that option over the lipsticks, knowing she’d be near irresistible with her lips coated in wet gloss, but some days he couldn’t help it. She smiled, and every-so-slightly pouted her lips for him to apply.

This was the worst part of the worst part. When he had to softly trace her lips with the applicator, and somehow resist to trace them with his fingers, or his mouth, or...

Marjorine smacked her lips when he was finished, giving him a 1000 watt smile with those sparkly lips, fixing an adoring gaze on him as she empathetically said “thank you,” punctuated with that beaming smile. His work wasn’t too bad, but when compared to some of the videos he’d seen online it definitely veered more towards clown makeup. It only served to cement the fact that Majorine could look stunning in anything. _Fuck._

Kenny stood up and took her in fully as she strode over to the mirror. The wig was cheap, but you could barely tell in the dark. She liked to wear dresses, but owned a skirt as well that she rarely used. She’d say all the time how she wished she could buy more clothes, but without the money or opportunity, she’d had to settle for what little they could get their hands on with their remaining funds on that fateful Denver trip. Besides _,_ she’d say, she can’t have too much so that she can’t hide it in her closet. The three dresses she currently owned sat at the bottom of a box behind the clothing rack in her wardrobe, beneath some innocuous shirts that hopefully her parents wouldn’t think to move.

Despite the fear Kenny can see in Marjorine, with the tense set of her shoulders, as if ready to whirl around to face the bedroom door that could open at any moment and have her father’s furious face in the frame, he could also see her relaxed in a way she rarely ever was. He thinks sometimes about how he’s probably the only one who’s ever seen her this relaxed, so unlike her stiff, quiet self in school or their friends’ houses. Her nervous mannerisms were all gone as she looked in the mirror, and her smile could beat a thousand suns in how bright it burned. Her excitement was infectious, and Kenny couldn’t fight off his own smile. No, this was probably the best part of his visits. When he got to see her finally be herself.

She hopped up and down, twirling, watching herself in the mirror as her dress swished from side to side. Then she turned to Kenny, who’d moved to sit on the window frame again and softly cheered her on, and walked over to lean against her desk, looking up at him.

Sometimes he’d stay for 10 minutes, just enough to say hello, and sometimes he’d stay for hours. They didn’t really do much. Sometimes they’d play on her Switch, taking turns to try and beat each others’ scores. Sometimes they’d study if there was an upcoming test or Marjorine felt especially stressed about school. Sometimes they’d sit in silence, and just enjoy having each others’ company. Even when they had nothing to do, it was important to Marjorine to hang out with someone while she was herself, Kenny knew. And so, he would stay for as long as she wanted.

Mostly though, they talked. They talked, and talked, for hours, until Kenny’s throat would get sore, and Marjorine’s eyes would droop. They would talk about school, about their friends, funny things that happened during the day. About their hopes and dreams, plans for the future. They’d talk about getting out of this town, saving up money to move to the other side of the country together, never having to talk to Marjorine’s parents ever again. She could be herself, they’d say. She could dress however she wanted and she wouldn’t have to worry about what people would think, her parents finding out, or the kids in school harassing her. Kenny would bring Karen, take her away from their own shitty parents for good. He’d get a new job, and she’d go to a new high school, and Marjorine would get a scholarship and go to a nearby college. They would build a new life, where they could be free.

And sometimes, Marjorine would look at him in a way that made his heart beat out of his chest. The way she was looking at him now. Intense, hopeful, almost pleading, as if knowing how he feels and wanting him to just admit it already. She moved up from the desk and came to stand right in front of him, almost eye level with each other now with Kenny’s slouching. He swallowed what felt like a big clump in his throat, anticipating the lithe fingers that came up to touch his worn jacket, but wincing anyway.

She looked at him through painted eyelashes, her giddiness dialed down to a calm thrumming, her smile shy. Despite her shyness, she was being awfully forward this time, stroking his jacket as if wanting to smooth it out and fixing on him with that intense gaze that spoke the words she didn't need to voice.

Another swallow, Kenny’s adam’s apple bobbing up and down. It was getting awfully hot despite the cool breeze coming in from the window where it’d been left open an inch, chilling his fingers that were clenching around the frame so hard they were turning white.

He avoided her gaze, looking down at his knee instead. He heard her sigh softly, defeated, already knowing what Kenny was going to say.

“Marj, you know I don’t feel that way about you.”

It came out clumsily, out of place in the stillness of the room. Too quickly, too breathy, and so obviously a lie.

She took a step back, the look on her face crushing Kenny’s chest like a fucking elephant had stepped on it. Kenny hated seeing that face on her, especially when it was caused by him. It should never be caused by him. He feels like he could be a serial killer and still not feel as bad about it as he feels about this.

“I’m sorry,” came her soft reply.

“No, no,” Kenny was grappling for the right words, just as much at a loss as he was every time this came up. “Look, Marj, you deserve the world, okay?”

He reached out to grab her hands, infinitely softer than his own calloused and bruised ones. He tried to lock eyes with her, and she soon relented, uncertainty painting her features like a virus, spreading from her face to the way she carried herself, from happy and relaxed to tense and small. It killed him. _You did this._

“You’re a beautiful woman, you’re kind, you’re stunning, and someday you’ll meet a guy that can see that just as much as I do,” he said, pulling her hands to his chest. She needed to know this. She needed to know that there were more people out there who could love her, people that she deserved. Just not him.

Even now, holding her hands, he felt like he was tainting her. Marring her with his grease and grime. She didn’t deserve that. Whatever ideas she has about having feelings for him were obviously nothing more than a puppy crush. He’s her best friend, the only person that’s seen the real her, of course she’d think she had feelings for him. And she’d continue to think that, right up until she realizes there’s a world outside her bedroom, that’s gonna accept her and love her for who she is. No, this was nothing more than getting a crush on the one friend that sticks up for you and understands you. Of course he’d be her whole world, but he won’t always be. And he won’t put his hands on her just cause she thinks she’s in love. He could never take advantage of her like that.

So he just smiles his most disarming and reassuring smile. The one he gives his sister when their parents are fighting, or someone pushed her around in school. Marjorine gives a weak smile back, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“I’d be okay with it, you know?”

His stomach drops. “With what?”

She steps forward again, hips barely touching his knees, soft teal fabric meeting his grass stained jeans. “You know, like, the casual thing. I’d be cool with it.” She looked so sincere, and Kenny felt like he was going to cry.

Fuck. He wasn’t expecting this. It felt wrong. Marjorine deserved a sweeping love story, not some casual hookup. She deserved a first kiss and a first time with someone she loves, who loves her back.

_Isn’t that you, dumbass?_

No. He gently pushed her back, smile intact, albeit strained now. His chest hurt. Everything hurt.

“I’m sorry, M. I-I can’t do that to you.”

_Fuck. Good job, asshole. Now she’s gonna think there’s something wrong with her. She knows you hook up with people casually and now she’s gonna think that you don’t want to do it with her because you think she’s gross or something. She’s gonna think that you’re like everyone else, reaffirming all the bad shit she already has in her head. Fuck. You’re such a shitty friend._

She was obviously putting on a brave face, smiling, but Kenny can see in the dim light from the window behind him how her eyes are turning glassy and how her smile is wavering. She swings around, taking a few steps away from him.

A beat of silence. Not the comfortable quiet that usually characterized their meetings. This one was deafening, like an alarm blaring so loud his eardrums blew out. The air had turned cold in the room, the breeze now a frozen chill. The dark, that used to be a comforting blanket, now made the room cold and unwelcoming.

“Maybe I should leave,” Kenny says, knowing it’s a bad idea to leave with all this bullshit left in the air to fester, but not knowing what else to say.

_Air it out, talk about this, reassure her, anything. Don’t just fucking leave, you coward._

But Kenny is a coward. No amount of vigilante justice, or acting big in front of his sister, or defending his friends, would change the fact that when Marjorine breathed out a soft “yeah,” he turned and climbed out the window, watching his friend’s shoulders shake as she stood alone in her dark, empty room, sniffling.

And he leaves.

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first proper fanfic so I hope you enjoyed!! I've always been a bit scared to write cause I'm more of a drawing person, but it's not as scary as I thought it'd be. I played around with some imagery, had a good time. struggled a bit with grammar since english isn't my first language, but that's what a beta is for hahah (i mean she's also swedish, but she's also a better and more experienced writer)
> 
> definitely didn't think I'd write about a straight ship first thing since I read fanfics in the first place because of the queer rep as a lesbian, but I just love Marjorine so much, and Kenny, and her/butters with Kenny, and it's still a queer story. I'm also surprised my first fic wasn't creek, since they're my absolute main, but I just have too many ideas for them to put down in words I think! maybe next time. Kenny's got some issues to work through in this thing, huh? I really like the mutual pining/mutual unrequited love dynamic. Maybe one day they'll get their act together! <3
> 
> feel free to leave feedback, or just thoughts, in the comments! I'm new to writing so be gentle, but I appreciate constructive criticism!


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